


Meltdowns Aren't Tantrums

by KittyKatBella



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: ADHD Character, Any possible trigger warnings are in the summary, Autistic Ford, Autistic Sharacters, Autistic Stanford Pines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 19:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13219665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyKatBella/pseuds/KittyKatBella
Summary: In-detail descriptions of what meltdowns are like for my OC and for Ford.Warnings forDescriptions of meltdownsSelf harm? UnintentionalMention of abuseMaybe some ableism? It's light though





	Meltdowns Aren't Tantrums

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm gonna do their meltdowns at two different parts in their lives: when they're younger (5-10, about), and their first year of high school. Because my meltdowns now are a lot different than they were when I was younger, and I feel Ford's would also be different. (I'm trying my best to remember what my meltdowns were like when I was younger. When they're younger, they're referred to as temper tantrums, even if they're meltdowns, because neither of them knew the term yet)

For Bella, they were sudden and frequent.

If she had to give a cause... she wouldn't be able to. Lots of things seemed to cause them. She didn't want to do this or that, kids were making her mad, even losing her favorite toy seemed to send her into a state of panic. She couldn't help it; she threw temper tantrums _all the time._

It was why she had special help in class.

If she could keep it together for an entire week, have a good week and not throw a temper tantrum, she got a prize. She could bring in a toy on Friday and have it sit on her desk. Or she was allowed to stay inside during recess and read. It worked well. ...when she could control whether or not she _threw_ the temper tantrum.

They started when it was too loud. In the cafeteria sometimes. When kids were yelling out answers in class. Or when something was stressful. She didn't understand this, she _couldn't_ understand this. Or when they wouldn't let her read during recess. She _needed_ to read; she couldn't play with the other kids. They thought she was weird. Except for Fiddleford. But she wanted to _read_ , not play; interacting with other kids was too stressful.

And when these happened, the temper tantrums _felt_ awful.

They didn't feel the same as when she could control throwing a fit. These weren't the ones like when she wanted something and her parents wouldn't give it to her. These were "I'm upset- but how do I _say_ that?" She kicked and screamed, but she didn't feel like herself.

Kicking, screaming, crying, biting, scratching. She'd bite herself and pull at her hair, the emotions were _too much_. If it was loud, she'd dig her hands into her ears but it still _hurt_. She'd injure herself trying to block out the sound. She'd hurt herself, and she'd others, but she didn't _want_ to. She wouldn't remember most of these fits, either. She'd only remember screaming and crying, but she didn't mean to hurt the teacher. But it was why they had to restrain her. So she didn't hurt others. But she _hated_ it. It felt bad. It felt tight. And she couldn't scratch herself when she itched. She didn't have control of her _arms._ It wasn't right. She didn't know how to calm down- she had to just... ride it out. Let it go away on its own.

But she wasn't a bad kid.

She knew that.

It was because of her ADHD, her teachers said. She couldn't control her emotions. That's why she got put in special classes. Without Fiddleford. But the classes helped, she learned to control her anger. Anger management classes. Because the anger, that's was what was making the fits dangerous. She learned to calm herself before she exploded. It was great. She got help, and she got to go back to regular classes.

But the temper tantrums turned into something else in middle school.

For Stanford, they were slow and irregular.

A cause? Stress. Or noise. Ford wasn't usually a bad kid. He was nice, and rather well-behaved for his age. But these things... they weren't him. He didn't mean to. He just got overwhelmed.

But that wasn't an excuse, apparently.

Crying. That's how they started. But he wasn't _supposed_ to cry; he was a boy. Boy's didn't cry. So he had to hide it, but that only made it worse. And because they usually happened at school, because of having to talk to other kids, he tried to hide it more. He couldn't cry in front of other kids.

But hiding it caused it to become louder.

And by the time they had escalated to that point, where he was a puddle on the playground, hands clutching at his hair and tugging enough that it _hurt_ , crying and screaming loud enough that the other kids- who had finally stopped _yelling-_ couldn't play, he had to be dragged inside. Stan was the only one who seemed to care about him once that happened, the only one who'd follow the teachers bringing him inside, who'd sit with him until he was able to calm himself.

_Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium..._

Listing the elements seemed to help. He had no clue why, but he'd list them all under his breath and by the time he reached the end, he'd feel better. The sides of his head always hurt though, and it wasn't until _after_ he had calmed down that he realized how hard he was tugging at his hair. But then after it had finally stopped, he had to go _back_ to class, where he was scared it would happen again.

And most of the time, it did.

The kids would be muttering and glancing at him, and he may not have been able to read body language like his brother could, but he _knew, knew, knew_ they were talking about him. And that caused him to break down again, and he had to go home.

That's what scared him.

Because going home meant punishment, and no matter what his dad said, it wasn't helping him learn to "control himself", it was making everything worse. He still didn't know how to stop freaking out when being forced to talk to other kids, or when it was too loud.

_Boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen..._

The teachers at one point, they suggested an autism diagnosis. But of course, his dad shut it down. Ford was too smart for autism. He couldn't be a freak like that.

Eventually, he had to learn to calm himself down before he began crying and screaming. He had to force himself to. It helped that Stan could tell when he was getting upset when Ford himself couldn't. Apparently his fidgeting increased ten-fold, he clicked his pen more, most of the time it burst from the chewing. And he'd play with the loose strings on his clothes, and his face would screw up a bit. And if Stan was able to see these before Ford started crying, everything could usually be ok.

But it didn't always work.

_Fluorine, neon, sodium, magnesium._

Ford had to learn how to calm himself down, he didn't have any help. The normal stress-reliever methods didn't work for him. He had to force himself to remain calm, to not cry, so he wouldn't get in trouble. He was almost ten! No one threw temper tantrums anymore! If he started screaming and crying and throwing a fit?

He would be a bad kid. A brat.

_A freak._

For Bella, they were less frequent, but still quick.

There were less triggers now. She had learned to control her anger, but that didn't help with the panic, with sensory overload, with stress.

 _Meltdowns._ Not temper tantrums. There was a name that didn't imply she was just a brat that needed a good spanking. That's why spanking never _had_ helped. She didn't have a behavioral problem, she had an emotional problem.

Ok, so they weren't violent anymore. Fine. That didn't make them any more tolerable for _her_. Meltdowns were still _bad, bad, bad._

In school, they were caused a lot by stress. She'd cry and break down at her desk, and she couldn't calm down. Fiddleford tried to help her with the methods she had learned in her anger management classes, but this wasn't _anger_. It was helplessness. And stress.

She'd cry, and cover her ears, and pull at her hair. No one could touch her, that made it worse. If it was a sensory overload, which usually accompanied _any_ meltdown, her palms would dig into her ears and her fingers would curl in her hair and both of those things _hurt,_ but she couldn't do anything else. She needed to be folded, tight, apply pressure to her arms and legs. A teacher would ask her if she needed to leave, to take a walk, and she wanted to, but the thought of missing something or getting in trouble would make it a bit worse. So Fiddleford always went with her.

He helped.

Meltdowns that stemmed from a loss of a comfort object- her Beanie Boo, her phone- could be helped by distraction. Fiddleford would talk to her, ask her questions, take her mind off it until she was able to get it back. But Bella still wasn't able to calm _herself_ down. Someone else had to help. Fiddleford was always willing to help, but Bella worried, what about when she's older and Fiddleford or Stan or Ford wasn't around?

Teachers didn't care about her comfort objects. They were "distractions", even if they weren't.

She could avoid things that would cause sensory overload. Now that she knew she had Sensory Processing Disorder, she could identify what set off a sensory overload. Assemblies and pep rallies were the only big one at school. So she was able to sit in the office during them. But when meltdowns couldn't be avoided, when they were unexpected, she _hated_ them.

If she had to describe it... well, she wouldn't know how. To someone else. But to her, she say they felt a bit like, maybe, drowning. Or hopelessness. Everything was louder, brighter, had to be tighter. She'd fold in on herself, tug at her hair. It hurt, but it felt _nice_. Block out all light, it's too bright. Cover her ears, kids talking (or even a video on the smartboard), it was too loud. And touching was off-limits. Her back, her arms, her shoulders, _any_ touching wasn't ok.

But she wasn't weak. She knew that.

It was her possible autism. And if it wasn't that, her ADHD. She just didn't know how to control _these_ emotions. She could handle anger. 

But what about stress?

For Stanford, they were slower and even less common.

Now that he knew _why_ they happened, why _meltdowns_ happened, he could identify the triggers and stressors. If he worked on schoolwork and studying too long, he became too stressed about it, and that plunged him into a meltdown. And now that he _knew_ that, he knew he had to take breaks. Couldn't plunge right through it. He could work longer, though, if he stimmed. Bella had gotten him a chewy that went on the top of his pen or pencil, so he could chew it. And Fiddleford found him a stim toy that he could pull and twist through his fingers, like he did with thread. They really helped.

And new social situations. These could be helped by what he learned was _scripting_ , planning out what he'd say for certain situations. And stimming as well, apparently. It was amazing how much calmer Ford felt when he could fidget or stim. In new situations, when he wasn't with his parents, he'd bring the tangle stim toy and play with it.

He did as much as he could to avoid things and situations that would cause his meltdowns, but sometimes they happened unexpectedly. And now he knew that to deal with them, he had to leave the area, be alone in a quiet, dark spot, and that what he had always done, listing the elements on the Periodic Table, was actually _really good._ Because it was "engaging in his special interest", Bella had said, which apparently helped people with autism calm down when they needed to. So, he'd list...

_Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium..._

And he wasn't a brat. He wasn't weak. He knew now why he couldn't control this, or when it happened, like kids could control temper tantrums. It's because they weren't temper tantrums. Stan didn't need to help him anymore, he could identify what stressed him. Or, well, Stan didn't need to help _all_ the time. Of course, there were times Ford was too distracted to notice himself slipping into a meltdown.

And so Stan, Stan was able to notice the signs. And get him out.

And it was _great_ , not having to go through his life wondering if _that_ would happen again. The hopelessness. The feeling lost. He could prevent it.

And he wasn't weak.


End file.
